Exposure
by Miss Romance-Lover
Summary: AU. Steven Hay arrives for his first day at work for Chester's Major Incident Team, and meets the elusive Brendan Brady - the man who plays by his own rules.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all – here is my first AU Stendan story. I had this idea a few days ago and just wanted to get this out as a prologue to see what you all think. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting **Domesticity.** I will of course be finishing that before I pursue this story; but I'm not going to have access to the internet for the next day or so, and I wanted to post this first. Please let me know what you think of this first chapter. Thank you x**

Exposure

The young man took a deep breath and braced himself. He was about to enter into the unknown, and that wasn't a feeling that ever sat well with him.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for DCI Osborne?" Ste Hay asked timidly as he walked into Chester's MIT Department where he was about to start his first day at work.

"Who's asking?" a gruff male voice responded almost instantly. Ste turned around to find he'd caught the attention of a tall, well-built man with dark hair and a moustache.

He tried to speak but the words got stuck in his throat - something that hadn't happened to him in years. The man who'd just spoken to him was leaning against the filing cabinet, arms folded as he waited for an answer.

"Er...I'm the new Constable," he mumbled. Then he reminded himself of what that meant and spoke up. "Steven Hay."

"Well then, I guess ye better come this way," the man told him, and now Ste could detect a strong Irish accent. He followed him into an office right at the back of the room, where the door was shut swiftly behind them.

The moustachioed Irishman then placed himself in the chair behind the desk and leaned forward. The sign in front of him said _DCI JACK OSBORNE_.

So _this_ was his boss?

"Tell me then, Steven, what makes ye right for the job?"

Ste almost squeaked out loud, he was that stunned at the question. He already _had_ the job, didn't he?

"I don't understand," he replied blankly.

The man rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, then put his feet up on the desk. "Hmm. If ye can't understand a question as simple as that, then I think we have a problem."

Just as Ste was about to protest his complete and utter confusion (not to mention his qualifications) the door burst open and an older, greying man walked in.

"DS Brady, is there any particular reason why you're lording it up in my office?"

The Irishman looked up and smiled, seemingly unaffected. "You know me, Jack. Just welcoming the new lad to the team."

At this brief exchange, Ste's mouth dropped open. The lying bastard!

The real DCI, who himself had a Scottish accent, merely shook his head. Clearly he knew this man better, but was choosing not to bother reprimanding him further.

He wondered if the situation he'd just been put in was a regular thing.

"Go and find DC Hayton, I want you both to go and bring in a suspect. We've got a new lead. DI Walker will fill you in."

Brady nodded and left the room, and the DCI went to sit down, gesturing for Ste to take a seat.

"Sorry about our Sergeant, DC Hay. He's not everyone's cup of tea, I'm afraid. You'll get used to him. I'm Jack, your DCI. Now, are you happy to just jump straight in? We've got a big case on the go at the moment; sixty year-old man, mugged and left for dead on the side of the road two days ago. Had his head caved in; he didn't stand a chance."

Ste nodded, trying to take everything in. He filed the comments about this DS Brady to the back of his mind for later, and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Right, what can I do to help, Sir?"

The older man smiled. "That's what I like to hear – great attitude and straight to the point!" he laughed kindly.

Ste grinned back. He knew already that he was going to like working for this man.

"And none of this 'Sir' please," he added. "That's what I have to call the super. Most folk round here just call me Jack. Or 'Boss' if you'd rather!"

With another smile and a nod of understanding, Ste stood up. "Okay, Boss," he replied. The DCI told him where he could start, and he left the room ready for a day of hard graft.

_**~ EXPOSURE ~**_

It was almost evening when he had his next encounter with the Sergeant who had left him speechless that morning. The man strolled into the room with an air of confidence that Ste couldn't help but admire.

Then he cursed himself inwardly for even noticing this when he was actually supposed to be making enquiries.

"Name's Brendan Brady, I don't believe we've met properly," the Irishman announced as he came to a stop in front of the desk.

Ste looked up and decided to keep things formal. If he wanted to pretend that the episode in the office hadn't happened, that was what he'd get. "You're DS Brady, right?" he checked without waiting for an answer, then offered out his hand to shake. "I'm DC Hay."

Brady looked bemused, but shook the younger man's hand anyway. "Most of us tend to go by a first name basis around here, Steven. Ye can just call me Brendan."

Ste was surprised yet irritated at the same time. This man was hard to work out. Posing as a self-important head of the department one minute; and the next it was 'I'm not bothered about rank, call me by my first name'.

"Right then, you can call _me_ Ste," he replied, boldly correcting that niggle of annoyance the man's last statement had caused him.

There were a couple of beats of silence, in which he wondered whether he'd gone too far. Whatever the man's issues were, he was still his superior officer.

But then the Sergeant barked out a laugh. The intensity of it almost made Ste jump.

"Mouthy little sod, aren't ye? I like that. I'm still gonna call ye Steven, though."

He wanted to protest, but found that he was starting to like hearing the sound of his full name when this man said it.

There had to be something very wrong with that.

"Are you going to stand there making small talk with poor Ste all day, or are you planning on actually doing some work before this day is out?" DC Hayton, or Nancy as she had introduced herself, called out abruptly.

There was a glint in Brendan's eye, and Ste wondered what his next move would be. Nancy, for her part, hadn't even looked up from her own desk. She didn't seem to care in the least that she had just cheeked someone she was supposed to be working under.

"Very funny, shorty. Know ye place."

Nancy merely smirked and shook her head. Ste was relieved when the Irishman walked away without another word, and he could carry on with the task at hand.

About half an hour later he could see that everyone was winding down for the night, and was beginning to look forward to heading home to relax. Not that this first day hadn't been...interesting to say the least. But he was already exhausted and he hadn't even stepped outside MIT yet.

Unfortunately the early reprieve wasn't to be.

The door burst open and in walked the DCI with DI Walker. Apparently they were all needed at the scene of a second mugging. They had another murder investigation on their hands.

Brendan stood from his seat on the other side of the room, picked up his car keys and threw a quick glance Ste's way.

"Steven, ye are with me," he announced casually before waltzing out after his own superior officers.

Blinking in shock, the young Constable got up to follow him, asking himself whether he'd drawn the short straw here without even having a choice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies to anyone who got an email saying I'd updated last night – the site somehow altered my format and I didn't want to post until it was sorted!**

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Please keep your thoughts coming :)**

Ste sat in awkward silence in the passenger seat of Brendan's car. Neither he or the DS had said a word since leaving MIT, and it was beginning to unnerve him.

Then again, what was probably more unnerving was the ridiculous speed the man beside him was driving at.

Oh, and the prospect of a dead body on his first day didn't help, either.

The way his mind was working, anyone would think he'd never done this job before; he was still quite young, after all. But the truth was that this village seemed to suffer far more from dangerous crimes than his home town of Manchester.

Leaving the comforts of Salford hadn't been an easy decision. But when those comforts had all but vanished, the choice had been taken out of his hands.

"Looking a bit pale there, Steven," DS Brady remarked, interrupting his thoughts. "Ye sure ye can handle this?"

Not for the first time that day, Ste felt a stab of irritation. And it wasn't just due to the fixation on his full name. He had a feeling that was something that was going to stick.

This time it was the blatant disbelief the man seemed to have over his capability that got to him.

He was also annoyed with _himself_, though. Why did he have to be so transparent during his silent anxiety attack?

"I'm fine, thanks," he answered in the obligatory civil tone.

"Right. Only, ye sound anything but," the Sergeant pointed out.

Damn him, why couldn't he just drop it?

"Really, DS Brady, there's nowt wrong with me," Ste insisted.

The Irishman sighed in exasperation. "I told ye to call me Brendan," he reminded him. "And I can see by the look on ye face that ye have more to say, so why don't ye just spit it out?"

_Because what I want to say starts with a four letter word and ends in 'off',_ Ste thought, his patience beginning to wear thin.

He was actually quite relieved when he realised they'd arrived at the crime scene, so he didn't have to come up with a more suitable response.

The moment the Sergeant had stopped the car, Ste opened the passenger door, jumped out and walked briskly to where the rest of the team stood. He ignored the odd look he got for his behaviour and focused on what the Chief Inspector was saying.

Unfortunately, their arrival had cut DCI Osborne off in his briefing.

"How does a man with a driving technique as erratic as yours still end up on a time delay, Brady?"

Brendan merely shrugged, eyes indifferent to the minor dressing down as well as the sight of the body on the ground before them.

"What can I say," he answered matter-of-factly. "I'm gifted. That, and we took the scenic route."

Ste tore his eyes from the dead man's frail form and looked at Brendan, suddenly furious. What was with this 'we'? He barely knew Chester. If they had taken the scenic route, he'd certainly not known about it.

And spending any longer than necessary alone with this insufferable man wasn't something he'd have chosen to do.

He was just on the point of protesting when he realised that their boss's attention was now back on the job. It seemed Brendan had got off lightly once again.

"Right," announced the DCI abruptly. "We need an ID on this man as soon as possible. DS Brady, I want you and DI Walker to get onto that as soon as we're finished here."

Brendan grumbled at that, and apparently this reaction came as no surprise to everyone else. It didn't change the situation, though.

Ste moved forward and knelt down next to the body.

"Don't-"

"Don't touch anything, I know," he finished, cutting DC Hayton – Nancy – off from her objection as politely as he could. Here was another one who doubted his abilities.

No one else commented, and he didn't turn to look at his colleagues or superior officers. He just went on instinct.

The man was lying on his front, the back of his head caked in blood. One of his arms was crossed over his chest, while the other was by his side.

Ste looked again and noticed that the hand by the victim's side was closed - almost as if it had been clenched into a fist before the fatal head wound had been struck.

Annoyingly, DS Brady seemed to be reading his thoughts.

"Looks like he was ready to defend himself," the Irishman remarked from behind him.

Ste wondered whether this guy was enjoying rubbing him up the wrong way. Then he scolded himself for thinking like a kid in a playground and told himself to grow up.

His gaze fell on the dead man's clothing. He was wearing jeans, and from where Ste was crouching he could see that there was something in his front pocket.

If this Brendan spotted it before he could mention it himself, he was going to be mightily pissed off. And he didn't much care about how immature he sounded inside his head; or about the fact that the bloke was his Sergeant.

He turned to his DCI, who was now the only one stood behind him, he realised. The others were stood a short distance away, apparently talking over the next steps. He must have been very deeply engrossed not to have heard them move.

"Sir...erm, Boss," he corrected, remembered the Chief Inspector's words that morning over what not to call him. "It looks like there's something in his pocket."

He gestured towards the body and tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about. Which he was 90% certain he did - his main issue was having the confidence to say it all.

"If we hadn't already had this down as a mugging, I'd be betting it's either his wallet or his phone."

Ste watched as DCI Osborne's previously unreadable face cleared, and a knowing smile appeared in its place. "Ah, but perhaps our initial suspicions were wrong?" he replied.

There was a pause while his words sunk in, and then Ste's face crinkled in confusion even when the penny dropped.

"You...already noticed his pockets, didn't you?" he checked unnecessarily. "I don't get it. Why didn't you..."

"DI Walker and I spotted it just before you and the Boy Racer over there turned up," he pointed towards the Sergeant. "I had a feeling you'd turn out to be a bright one. DC Hayton usually ends up making all these ground-breaking discoveries while those other lazy toe-rags just arse about. Thought you should get a decent shot at proving yourself to the lot of them."

Ste's mouth dropped open, and he briefly wondered why this Nancy wasn't of a higher ranking if she was so much smarter than the likes of DS Brady.

But it sounded very much like Jack Osborne was impressed with him, and he wasn't going to pass up the compliment.

"Er, right," he replied. "Thanks? So, what's next now then?"

DC Hayton chose that moment to approach them with about four people following briskly behind her.

"Forensics are here," she announced right on cue with Ste's question. "Right pocket - there's something in it," she added efficiently over her shoulder.

He glanced at her in wonder, but she merely smiled at him with the utmost professionalism.

Had they _all_ noticed it before him?

Did that mean the comment about finding an ID had been a false order?

And more to the point, while he was busy asking himself these endless questions, what kind of detective team waited for a newbie to catch up on the vitals of a case before acting on what they knew?

This one, apparently.

"Right," the DCI said loudly after the team had stood and watched the body as it was removed – but not before spotting a wallet being retrieved first. So that well and truly took care of the identification, then.

"I'll see you all bright and early in the morning! We've got a lot to do. Go home, get some sleep and be ready for another long day, guys."

With that, the man disappeared - as did DI Walker, who still had yet to say anything of any substance to Ste.

"Right," Brendan echoed, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that there had been no body laying in the vicinity just minutes ago. The Irishman was practically hopping from foot to foot, such was his sudden good mood. "Who's for the pub?"

Nancy actually nodded, and Ste was surprised that after all he'd heard about the woman today, she wasn't heading straight home for an early night. He'd actually been considering it himself; but now he was growing curious about his new town. He seemed to be working with a mixed bunch of people including the eccentric, the clever and the downright irritating.

Maybe there would be some actual sane, _normal_ people in this pub.

"Ye coming or what, Steven? Haven't got all day, ye know," his Sergeant huffed impatiently, although Ste got the strangest feeling from the look on Brendan's face that he was hoping the answer was a yes.

He agreed to go for one drink on the unspoken basis that he could always escape and feign tiredness if he wasn't keen on how the evening was going. Following his colleagues, he saw Brendan pull his car keys from his pocket.

Of course, there was always the very real possibility that he might not the survive the forthcoming car journey with this lunatic; let alone the night ahead.

It scared him a little that this thought didn't stop him from getting into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Ste followed his colleagues into the pub, finding himself in a large, homely place that put him at ease after the long day he'd had.

"The usual for Miss Know-It-All and two pints of Guinness, Darren," Brendan announced deadpan, gesturing to Nancy first.

The man behind the bar stole a quick glance at the lady, smiled at her like she was his favourite person in the world, and finally turned to Brendan with a more reserved expression.

Ste didn't know which the look on his face resembled more - fear or annoyance. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

"Sure," the barman answered, picking up a wine glass to deal with Nancy's drink first. No one seemed surprised by his priorities.

As he worked, Darren glanced again at Ste, and Brendan cleared his throat.

"Ye not met our new Constable yet, then?" he asked pleasantly. "This is Steven."

"Ste, actually," he corrected, deciding that he could protest all he liked outside of working hours. He didn't want everyone in Chester calling him Steven.

"Alright, mate?" Darren nodded his head in greeting. By now their female colleague had been given her wine and had disappeared to find a seat.

It was only when Darren went to pick up two pint glasses that Ste realised something.

"Hang on, I don't even drink Guinness, me. Why did you order _for_ me?"

Brendan cocked his head to the side and gave him a half-smile. "'Cos I'm buying. Come on, live a little. Ye might like it."

"Rather buy me own drinks, thanks all the same."

Elbows propped up against the bar, Darren was flicking his eyes between the two men. "So? What's it to be?"

Brendan said nothing, looked away, and despite himself Ste suddenly felt bad for turning down the man's generosity. After all, he could have ended up with a tyrant for a Sergeant. Instead he'd ended up with...

Well, with an unpredictable, abrupt and yet somehow _harmless_ guy.

Now he'd pondered that, he felt the need to humour the Irishman. "Oh alright, give me the Guinness then," he agreed. "I'll get the next round though!"

He turned to Brendan and offered him a smile, and got a puzzled one back in return. Minutes later they found Nancy at a table in the corner and joined her with their drinks.

She was sipping her wine and peering at Darren – trying and failing to look nonchalant.

"Don't let us keep ye," Brendan announced pointedly as he caught her eye. "Ye could've stayed at the bar if all ye were gonna do was drool over young Osborne."

Ste opened his mouth to comment at the name in surprise, but Nancy spoke first.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Brady," she replied in a clipped tone.

"Yeah, course not..." he muttered under his breath.

"Hang on," Ste piped up in the silence that followed. "Darren's an Osborne?"

"Yes, he's the DCI's son," Nancy informed him without missing a beat. She then glared at their Sergeant when he gave her a sly smirk at her haste to answer the question.

"He's a bit of a waster," Brendan added. "No prospects, this place was the best he could do."

Ste felt like sticking up for the poor guy, who was being slagged off so shamelessly while they sat and drank his beer.

Again, his fellow DC got there first. "He runs this place!" she retorted. "No prospects indeed...how does anyone stand a chance in this world when people like you are so quick to judge?"

"Ye seem to forget that the man doesn't actually own this place, Hayton," Brendan shot back. "Anne does. Darren's just the front man."

"Well, maybe I'll just take your advice and go sit elsewhere after all. I'll see you tomorrow when you've put your bitchy side away. Ste, I'd escape now while you can. Thanks for the drink, _Serg_."

And with that she picked up her wine glass, downed the last few mouthfuls and walked away, leaving Ste alone with this man that he still couldn't work out.

Which, in truth, wasn't actually a problem. He only had to answer to this man and work with him. That was all.

So then why did he _want_ to work him out?

"Does the boss know you talk like that about his son?" he found himself asking. In contrast, his head was telling him to shut up. Fast.

Brendan shrugged off the question without so much as a blink. "Yeah. Why?"

He'd thought that was more than obvious. But he was past the point of caring how the hell this man got away with doing and saying whatever he liked.

"Why d'you hate the guy so much, then?" he asked, bypassing Brendan's last question altogether.

There was a sigh. He half expected to be told to mind his own business.

"I don't hate him," the Irishman said softly. "But I don't _like_ him either. She can do better," he gestured in the direction Nancy had wandered off in.

Suddenly the last few minutes clicked into place for Ste. "I get it. You like her," he replied, then casually swigged his beer as if he _hadn't_ just indicated something personal about his superior officer – and straight to the man's face as well.

"Rank that, in't it?" he commented of the Guinness.

Brendan turned to him and stared blankly, his voice quieter than it had been all day. "No, Steven, I _don't_ like her – not like that. And as for the beer – it's an acquired taste. Should've known a little runt like ye wouldn't have been able to handle it."

There was humour in his eyes now, and Ste didn't take offence as he had done with every other insult. "Yeah well, it were your idea!"

Instead of responding, the other man picked up Ste's glass and, having already finished his own, downed half of the pint.

"Waste not want not," Brendan announced with a grin.

"Cheers, saved me having to fork out for another round, that," Ste smirked as he stood up to leave. He was starving all of a sudden, and decided to stop for a takeaway on the walk home. The detour to the pub had saved him the expensive bus fare, as the flat he shared was now only down the road.

He called out a polite goodnight and disappeared before Brendan could object – and again, he had the strange feeling that the guy would have done. He couldn't deny that he'd started to feel more relaxed in the Sergeant's company in the last hour; but it was still an awkward concept. He'd come to this place expecting to work on a professional level, and it wasn't really working out like that.

And now there was an odd, warm sensation fluttering through his stomach that was both unfamiliar and unwelcome, so he was going to fill it with food and pretend it didn't exist.

_**~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~**_

Ste was grateful for the lift to work the next morning – he'd been running late. His flat mate had an early meeting, and conveniently Ste's building was on his way.

Ste had gone to school with the guy back in Manchester, before he'd moved to Chester himself a few years back. Amongst all the chaos of meeting new people and starting a new job, it had been a relief to know that he wouldn't be completely alone in this new village.

"Thanks, Justin. See you tonight," he said as he got out of the car.

"See you later mate."

He walked into MIT to find Nancy the only soul there. He was startled to realise that he'd already pictured their Sergeant in the room as a fixture. He was getting used to him already.

"Morning," he greeted with a smile. Nancy looked up and returned it.

"Good morning, Ste," she replied, her tone friendly despite how busy she looked. She had the phone in one hand and a pile of paperwork in the other.

"The one morning no one's around, and suddenly they're all in demand!" she exclaimed a few minutes later as she ended what was apparently the hundredth call so far.

"Where is everyone?" Ste asked in response to her moan. It had been his next question anyway.

"DCI Osborne and DI Walker are at the morgue. As for our DS...your guess is as good as mine."

Ste highly doubted that his guess would be of any use at all, given that he'd only known Brendan a total of 24 hours.

Then again, after the way he'd left him in the pub last night, it didn't take much to work out that the man was probably hungover.

"Right, well what can I do to help?" he offered, sidling up to join her at the desk.

Nancy looked a lot happier to have a companion with her in their state of limbo, and gratefully handed over some of the paperwork.

"Could you file these?"

Ste nodded and walked over to the large filing cabinet he remembered using for much of his tasks the morning before.

As he worked, he decided to take advantage of the absence of their other colleagues. "So, about DS Brady," he called out. He wasn't quite bold enough to refer to the man by his first name when he wasn't actually in the room with them. "He's quite protective of you, in't he?"

The other Constable looked more than a bit surprised at the reminder of last night's conversation. Ste looked away, panicking that he'd overstepped the mark with someone who was far too professional to discuss their superior officer behind his back. He knew he was being hypocritical to be so nosey, given that he'd been the one hoping for such professionalism himself. Until he'd come here.

But Nancy rolled her eyes to the ceiling and huffed a laugh. "Maybe that's part of it," she conceded. "He's never liked Darren, though. I doubt that's all down to me."

"You two aren't together, then, you and Darren?"

"Hardly!" she shook her head. "We haven't got past the first date yet," she added, looking almost shy about it.

Ste didn't press her on that topic. There was something else he'd been wondering about. And if his first question had overstepped the mark, then this was verging on dangerous territory.

"So. What about you and..."

"Brendan?" Nancy finished with a raised eyebrow, and Ste didn't know which he was more; relieved that she'd said it first, or nervous at the look on her face.

As it was, the woman just smirked. She looked as though she was on the point of bursting into a fresh peal of laughter. "Oh, Ste. There is no me and Brendan," she told him, mustering up a straight face. "I'm his sister's best friend. He's known me for years. And besides, _he doesn't swing that way_."

She whispered the last few words, but it did little to lessen her volume as the door opened and they finally had some company.

"Who doesn't swing _what_ way?" Their DS commented, hair dishevelled and face deathly white as he wandered in and sat at a random desk.

"Never you mind," Nancy replied shamelessly. "You look like shit, Brendan!"

"Thank ye, Hayton. If that's payback for last night, job well done. Now get us a coffee, will ye?"

She relented, muttering, "grumpy bugger," on her way to the coffee machine. Ste, meanwhile, stood rooted to the spot. Nancy's not-so-subtle revelation had left him stunned.

He had managed to forget that he had a job to do until the door opened yet again, and just as they had the evening before, the Chief Inspector and DI Walker stormed in, shattering the peaceful atmosphere in MIT.

"Morning all," DCI Osborne greeted in his loud manner. "Right, here's the situation. The victim's name is Peter Boyle. DC Hayton, DC Hay, I need the two of you to go and talk to his wife. Obviously we need a formal identification from the next of kin. DS Brady...sort yourself out. You look a mess."

As he and Nancy prepared to leave, Ste glanced at Brendan. The man still looked like death warmed up, sipping his coffee and slouching in his chair. Their boss's comment hadn't affected him one bit. Or maybe he was simply too out of it to notice.

That didn't stop him from spotting the younger man's look and locking eyes with him, though. There was a smile in his eyes that couldn't quite reach his mouth.

Ste nodded at him and turned away, feeling strange. The warmth in the pit of his stomach was back, and he needed to snap out of it.

This was only day two of his new life. He had to get a grip.

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**First thing's first – thank you so much for your lovely comments! And secondly – how brilliant was it to watch our boys win Best Partnership at the weekend?! Yay for Stendan! :)**

**Hope you enjoy chapter four – please leave a review**

**x**

They left Mrs Boyle, the dead man's frail looking widow, a good while later.

This was the worst part of the job for Ste. When he was focused, a body and a bit of blood didn't faze him. But sitting in someone's house and telling them their loved one had been killed – _that_ he found soul destroying.

The woman he and Nancy had been instructed to talk to today was in her sixties. She should have been looking forward to retirement with her husband, continuing to grow old together until a peaceful death came, warm in their beds.

Instead she had to listen to two strangers, telling her that he was gone.

"What time are you coming back to collect her?" Ste asked as they drove away in Nancy's car. She would be returning later to accompany the woman to view her husband's body and confirm that it was indeed the man they thought it was.

Nancy looked about as sombre as he felt. "After lunch. Not that the poor woman will be able to eat anything. I hope that daughter of hers gets to her soon. She can't go and see his body alone."

Ste nodded, because what else was there to say to that?

He let her lead the way when they arrived back in MIT. The boss was nowhere to be seen, and neither was DI Walker.

DS Brady, however, was still sitting in the same spot he'd been in when they'd left.

"Are you kidding me?" Nancy called out, arms folded as she made her way over to stand in front of him.

"I don't know, shorty, am I?"

"Have you actually even moved since you got here?" she demanded.

Brendan lifted a brow and pointed behind him. "About half an hour ago I got up for another coffee," he replied with a smirk.

Ste watched as Nancy marched over to her desk in a huff. On the one hand, he sympathised with her wholeheartedly. The man was the laziest detective he'd ever come across.

On the other hand...

Brendan's eyes were fixed on him, and he felt his insides turn to jelly. It took him far longer than intended to look away.

When he finally did so, Ste walked over to lend a hand to his fellow DC. But before they could do anything else, the Irishman spoke again.

"Jeffrey Humes."

Ste's head snapped up at the same moment that Nancy squeaked out, "What...?"

Brendan still wasn't moving; hadn't even glanced in their direction.

"While ye two ladies were busy drinking tea and comforting the wife, I went out and knocked on a few doors," he added.

Whatever Ste had been feeling before the man's revelation had now withered, and been replaced once again by irritation at his belittling statement.

Neither he or Nancy responded, though, so Brendan continued in casual tones. "Seems Peter Boyle had at least one clear enemy."

There was silence between the three people in the room until eventually Nancy moved to stand in front of the Sergeant.

"Jeffrey..." she repeated slowly.

"Humes," he finished with certainty.

"Right. So you mean to tell me you've actually been out of this building, done some _real_ work, _and_ come up with a name for us?"

An outsider would have made the fair assumption that Nancy was the superior officer here, addressing one of her officers.

Any normal Detective Sergeant would surely go mad at one of their Constables talking to them like this.

But, as Ste was already growing privy to, Brendan Brady was far from normal.

As it was, the guy barely blinked at Nancy's sarcastic mini-rant.

"Yes, yes and yes again, Hayton," he replied, drumming his fingers against his desk as though thoroughly bored by her implications.

"So then why are you sitting here, still looking like you belong in the morgue yourself while doing absolutely nothing?"

Ste was starting to feel like a spare part amidst all their banter. He was pretty sure this conversation could go on for hours.

"Keep ye hair on, woman! Uniform went to bring the guy in for questioning about...oh, half an hour ago. Should be here any minute."

At this point Ste thought it relevant for him to speak up. "Isn't that our job?" he asked, gesturing towards Nancy and himself.

Brendan's mouth twitched into a half-smile as he regarded Ste with interest.

"I was wondering when ye were going to join us, Steven," he replied, sounding amused. "As I said, ye were otherwise engaged, and time waits for no man."

"Apparently it waits for you though," Ste muttered under his breath at Brendan's immobile state.

"What was that?"

He decided it was probably wise not to repeat himself. The Irishman's voice was sharp - and Nancy may not have cared either way, but Ste did. A list was beginning to form of the various things Brendan Brady made him feel, and one of them was 'scared'.

"Nothing...I was just wondering who's going to interview this guy," he said instead.

"Well, seeing as finding this Jeffrey was all down to Brendan's fine skills, why don't we let him do it."

DI Walker had crept in behind them without detection. Ste turned to look at him now, and didn't like the expression he saw on the man's face.

It was plain to see that the words of praise he'd just given to the Sergeant were in complete contrast to whatever was going through his mind.

There was something about the Inspector that put Ste on edge, and he knew Brendan felt the same way because he'd had a glimpse of that the day before at the scene of the murder.

"Well I'm honoured, Walker, truly I am. I suppose I'd best go and see if Humes has arrived yet, then," Brendan announced without looking at the man. "Where's our esteemed leader?"

"He's here," replied DCI Osborne right on cue. "Ah, I see you're up and about, Brady. Good."

Ste looked over at their boss and considered that these people were really going to have to stop popping up out of nowhere, otherwise one of these days he was going to have a heart attack.

"Have been for a while, actually, boss," Brendan assured him with a satisfied grin.

"Yes, I've just seen uniformed officers downstairs signing in somebody by the name of Jeffrey Humes on your say so. Just wanted to see you in action with my own eyes first. Off you go then, Sergeant - you can fill me in later."

He did as instructed, and the DCI turned to address Ste next.

"DC Hay, I'd like you to accompany DC Hayton again when she goes back to collect Mrs Boyle and her daughter. I'd prefer it if there were two of you on hand when the poor souls have to view the body."

Ste just gaped at him, his mind replaying the look on the poor woman's face that morning.

"You alright there, son?" the older man looked concerned. "You've dealt with dead bodies before, yes?"

He nodded quickly at that. It would have been a bit late to freak out over the body _now_, even if that had been the case. When he didn't offer a reason for his subdued state, Osborne seemed to click on to what the real issue was.

"It's tough going, telling someone their loved one's dead, isn't it," the older man pondered thoughtfully. "I was a young police officer once too you know. I hated that part of the job."

"How did _you_ get past it?" Ste found himself asking, now hanging onto every word.

"I didn't. Not fully. Still hate it; but it has to be done. Eventually you just learn how to look these poor people in the eye, say what has to be said and then switch off from it when you get home at the end of the day."

DI Walker had sloped off to his desk, but Nancy had been listening in and now moved to put a reassuring hand on Ste's shoulder.

"It gets easier," she promised, giving him an understanding smile. He managed to smile back at her, and the two of them then left to set off back to the widow's house.

He told himself to shut off all emotion and to just get on with the job. After all, if he couldn't do that, then what was the point in being here?

_**~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~ Exposure ~**_

He was just settling down with a takeaway when he heard a knock at the door. He sighed in annoyance. Justin was at his girlfriend's for the night, so he was alone in the flat. He'd been looking forward to a peaceful evening, but that plan had clearly gone down the drain now.

The knocking became more persistent, and Ste slowly rose to his feet and trudged over to the door.

When he opened it he came face to face with DS Brendan Brady. And the man didn't look surprised to see him, so clearly he'd been seeking Ste out specifically.

"How...how did you find out where I live?" he stuttered, completely stunned amongst other thoughts. He really hoped the Irishman hadn't snooped at his personal file to find his address. He didn't fancy adding 'stalker' to the many words that came to mind when he thought of Brendan.

"Hayton mentioned that ye flatmate just so happens to go by the name of Justin Burton," he replied, as if that explained why he'd turned up at a new colleague's house at half eleven at night, completely out of the blue.

"Right..." Ste vaguely recalled chatting with Nancy on the way back from the morgue a few hours before – an obvious tactic to take his mind off of what they'd just had to do. She'd asked about his life and he'd told her about moving in with his friend; and it transpired that she had met Justin at college a few years before. Apparently they were still on good terms, although they didn't actually socialise together.

It was fairly likely that Brendan knew him too, though.

"You're here to see Justin then, yeah?" Ste assumed out loud. He didn't know why his heart dropped so much at the possibility of it.

The man leaned against the door frame and shook his head, bemused. "Nope. Came to see _ye_."

"Why would you do that?"

Brendan leaned in closer to him. Ste felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Like I said, I was talking to Hayton earlier. She was telling me ye were struggling with all that stuff with the widow today. Thought I'd come and see if ye were okay."

The gesture seemed so uncharacteristic that Ste almost forgot to be angry at Nancy's blatant blabber-mouthing.

"Er, thanks. I'm fine though, really."

"Now don't start _that_ again, Steven," the other man eyed him sternly, in direct contrast to the softness in his voice. "Ye gonna let me come in or not?"

After half a minute's internal debating, he stepped aside to allow Brendan access, and shut the door behind him.

"I was just gonna have a beer," he managed on an increasingly dry throat. "Would you like one?"

"Sure."

Ste turned and headed for the kitchen. By the time he returned, handed him the bottle and took a sip of his own, his hands were shaking with nerves. Brendan apparently mistook this as a sign of distress from the day's events.

"Hey," he said, moving closer to him. "It's okay."

_It was until you showed up and got me all flustered, _Ste thought, swallowing awkwardly. He tried to distract himself by taking a swig of his drink, but this only made the trembling more prominent.

"Calm down, Steven," Brendan told him gently. "The day's over with now."

Ste was still trying to keep up with the ever-changing personalities of this man. Despite only having known him for two days, he felt certain that the Sergeant was rarely ever sympathetic to _anyone_.

Only, this instance contradicted that statement quite heavily.

"It's...it's not that," he finally answered, unable to bring himself to edge away from Brendan now that he could practically feel his breath on his face.

"Then what is it?"

What it was, was that Ste _wanted_ this man. He wanted him more than he'd ever desired anything or anyone in his life; and he was only just admitting it to himself after 48 hours of mixed emotions.

And he didn't have the first clue why.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for such brilliant reviews last time! Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter :)**

"Calm down, Steven, the day's over with now," Brendan said.

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Ste swallowed again, trying to think of what he could say other than, 'I fancy the pants off you'.

Because this was his Sergeant, for God's sake. He couldn't _do_ anything about the feelings he was having. Not if he wanted to keep this job and stay in Chester.

When no alternative answer came to mind, he forced himself to move away, turning his back to the older man.

"So, how did it go with that bloke you questioned earlier?" he asked instead, a complete change of subject that Brendan did not fall for.

"We're not at work right now, Steven. That kind of talk can be saved for the morning."

The next thing Ste knew, the Irishman had moved until he was once again standing in front of him. This time, his body was so close that he could actually feel the heat between them.

And the look Brendan gave him when they locked eyes told him that he wasn't the only one going crazy with desire here.

Ste tried to move again, but this time he found he physically couldn't. It was as though his feet has been welded to the floor.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand it any longer, they were interrupted from their moment - or whatever it was - by a loud, agitated voice and a door being opened and slammed in quick succession.

"Change of plan, there's no way I'm staying there tonight. Hannah's kicked off at me-"

Justin's voice trailed off mid-rant as he took in the sight of his flat mate and his guest.

"Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Ste's head was conflicted between relief and frustration at the arrival of his mate.

He decided it was safer to go with relief.

"Nah, it's nothing. DS Brady was just going, weren't you?" he replied breezily. He wished he hadn't noticed the flicker of hurt he saw in Brendan's eyes as he spoke.

That brief show of emotion vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, though. The man nodded, downing the last of his beer and handing it to Ste without making eye contact.

"Absolutely. Goodnight, Steven," he said over his shoulder as he walked towards the door. He nodded at Justin in acknowledgement on his way past. "Burton."

"Bye, Brendan," the lad returned pleasantly, as if they were old mates.

The minute the man had gone, though, his demeanour was a whole different story.

"Why didn't you tell me you worked with Brendan Brady?!" Justin exclaimed, his eyes resting on the closed door in shock.

Ste rubbed his eyes, trying to focus - something that wasn't easy after the things that had just been running through his mind.

"Didn't realise you even knew him until I spoke to Nancy today," he replied. He gave his friend a pointed look to let him know that this 'why didn't you tell me' thing worked both ways.

Justin's face cleared in understanding. "Oh, right. Nancy. Haven't seen her in a while - I forgot she worked in your department, actually."

Ste wondered how that response could match up with Nancy's description of their friendship. If the poor girl wasn't even worth remembering, then saying they were 'on good terms' was a bit of a stretch.

"She said you went to college together?"

"Yeah, we did. Met Hannah there, too. They were best mates up until a few months ago," Justin explained, before it dawned on him that his flat mate still had a question to answer.

"Oi, enough about me - what about Brendan?"

Taking the opportunity to hide his face while it went a deep shade of red, Ste turned around and retrieved another beer from the fridge; disposing of Brendan's bottle as he did so.

"What about him?" he asked when he returned, handing Justin his drink. He hoped his voice sounded indifferent, unbothered.

The thoughts going around his head were completely the opposite.

"What was he doing here?"

Ste shrugged as if it was nothing to him; when in reality it might just have been everything.

"Just work stuff," he answered.

Why on earth it would make sense for his new Sergeant to turn up at his flat after just two days in acquaintance, he didn't know. It had sounded ridiculous the moment the words had come out.

For whatever reason - and maybe something on Ste's face decided it for him - Justin didn't question it.

"Right."

And just when he thought they were getting onto safer ground, Ste was hit with another question.

"You do know what people round here say about him, don't you?"

He was stumped here, because outside of the people in MIT and that bar man at The Dog, he didn't know what _anyone_ said about Brendan.

By the concerned way Justin was looking at him, Ste doubted this had anything to do with the Irishman's clearly notorious laziness.

"No. What are you on about?" he asked, his casual tone overpowered by the waver in his voice.

Whatever this was, it was crazy that it was already bothering him this much. Particularly as he had just forced the guy out the door.

"Thought you'd have heard it yourself by now. A few years back, a girl was killed in the village. She used to live with Brendan," Justin told him, a grim expression on his face.

Ste froze, completely thrown by his mate's revelation. Was it naive of him to think that every member of the police force - even fruitcakes like Brendan Brady - was clean as a whistle?

Apparently so, if this conversation was going where it appeared to be heading.

"What happened?" he demanded, a miraculous amount of calmness in his voice. He would save the shock and horror for later, when he was alone.

Justin shrugged then, his voice now less certain than it had been with his initial outburst.

"Don't know. I was in the shop one day when I heard something going on outside, and when I went to look, he and his sister were crouched down next to Lynsey's body on the ground."

"And she was dead by then?" Ste asked, coldness creeping into his body. His body that had been so flushed with heat not so long ago, thanks to the same man they were discussing right this minute.

"Yeah. There was a Doctor there by the time I got outside and he'd already checked that."

"Right. So what do people say about him, then?"

He was already positive he knew exactly what.

"What do you think I'm going to say, Ste?" Justin challenged quietly, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"So everyone says it was him? _He_ killed her?" The nod he got in response confirmed it.

He couldn't even begin to understand how that was possible. He told himself this was because Brendan was his DS, and so it was unfathomable that the man could be a killer while working on the right side of the law. And of course, that was all true.

But beneath the exterior, Ste didn't want to believe he'd just had a personal connection with someone capable of murder.

Justin sipped from his drink, looking away awkwardly. He seemed to sense that Ste was more than uncomfortable with this conversation. "That's about it, yeah."

"Well it must be a load of rubbish," Ste insisted in the hope of changing the subject. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and the statement wasn't enough to convince even himself. Fortunately though, nothing was said to contradict it.

"So, what happened with Hannah then?"

The reminder of why he'd returned to the flat in the first place seemed to put all thoughts of Brendan out of Justin's head, and he spent the rest of the evening talking tirelessly about his argument with his girlfriend.

As for Ste, it was already too late. Sergeant Brady had already got inside his head.

And apparently for all the wrong reasons.

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~**_

It was with a considerable amount of relief that Ste walked into MIT the next morning to find that Brendan wasn't there.

Things were already going to be awkward enough purely because of how close they'd come to...well, whatever had been about to happen between them before Justin had burst in.

But after what he'd been told afterwards, the prospect of seeing DS Brady again now filled him with a very different kind of fear to the one he'd been harbouring all week.

As he walked through the door, Ste spotted Nancy and a few others milling about busily. She looked up and sent him a harassed smile.

"Morning, Ste. Loads to do. Brendan's downstairs interviewing Humes again; and the boss will probably be here any minute."

He nodded and joined them, and for the next hour worked non-stop; making enquiries, sorting out paperwork and doing whatever was asked of him by DCI Osborne. The older man flitted in and out of the building so much that Ste was wary of missing an instruction.

The busy morning served to remind him what he was really doing here. And it wasn't to get distracted by cocky Irishmen with pasts that were more than questionable.

The problem was that things kept popping up to take his mind away from the job at hand. His thoughts switched quite disturbingly between lustful longing and a creeping horror that refused to sink in completely.

It wasn't until they were having a quick bite to eat at their desks that Ste was presented with an opportunity he couldn't ignore.

"So, did you tell that flat mate of yours that you're working with me?" Nancy asked him with a smirk. "Bet he thought he'd got rid of me!"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He could hardly tell her that Justin hadn't even batted an eyelid at the news.

"Yeah, we were just talking about it last night," he replied with a small smile. Then he remembered something about an ex-friendship with Hannah, Justin's girlfriend. It was probably best not to bring that up, he decided.

Instead, Ste psyched himself up for his next sentence. "He was telling me about his old mates. Did you know Lynsey too?"

He deliberately didn't look at her as he said it, but by the time he turned his head and saw her face again he felt terrible. Nancy must have known the girl well. But then how did that tally with what was being said about Brendan, when the two of them were so close?

She had gone pale, and when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing coherent came out.

"Well, looks like we've got him!" Brendan announced as he crashed through the doors, looking triumphant. But the expression on his face soon changed when he saw the state of Nancy.

In a gesture that was a far cry from his usual rude banter with the young woman, the Sergeant crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his.

"Hey, hey what is it? What's happened?" he asked in soft, soothing tones. Ste could only watch on, half-mortified, half-stunned.

Nancy croaked out just one word. "Lynsey..."

Ste wanted to bury himself in a very large hole and possibly never come out. But Brendan had now turned his attention to him, and the look in his eyes was demanding that he explain what had reduced their normally emotionally stable colleague to an anxious wreck.

"I was just asking her about Lynsey...Justin mentioned her last night," he explained quietly.

Brendan got to his feet and walked over to Ste's desk. He got up close, and this time it was clear that the heat radiating from his body represented nothing but fury.

"Ye _don't_ mention her name again, ye hear me? Not _ever_."

Then he turned away, leaving Ste to contemplate what on earth had just happened here.


	6. Chapter 6

**A big thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. Please keep letting me know your thoughts. It's other AU stories like **Locked Up**, **At First Sight **& **Boyfriend for a Week **(by Marble Eyes, who has created possibly the most legendary new character in Aunt May!) that inspired me to try out my own idea. Hope you enjoy chapter six :)**

There were several things he could envision getting a dressing down for from a superior officer, and this wasn't one of them.

Ste watched, body still shaking, as Brendan left the room again - apparently to charge Humes.

Once he had gone, Ste tentatively approached Nancy's side and whispered a genuine apology, keeping his voice quiet so that no one else could hear.

The rest of their colleagues had already heard the Sergeant's outburst; and Ste didn't want to be the reason for any gossip spreading Nancy's way.

"It's alright, it's not your fault," she replied, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder as the colour returned to her cheeks.

He gave her a soft smile and nodded, trying to convey wordlessly that he wasn't planning on mentioning Lynsey again.

The atmosphere slowly returned to normal, and by the time Walker and their DCI returned with news of further developments, Ste found himself able to concentrate more fully again.

"Right, as you all know, DS Brady has this afternoon formally charged Jeffrey Humes with the murder of Peter Boyle," DCI Osborne announced to the room.

"He is actually still questioning him downstairs, because about five minutes ago he gave us another name regarding not just _this_ murder investigation; but also the fatal mugging we've been looking into. Does the name Mark Collins mean anything to anyone?"

There were a few muttered exchanges around the room, and then Nancy spoke up.

"Charged with attempted murder a few years back - got off scot-free thanks to 'insufficient evidence'."

It was clear from her tone that this was thought of as an injustice. Ste had never heard of the guy, but everyone else around him nodded in agreement with his fellow DC.

Osborne smiled at her. "Spot on, DC Hayton." He went on to tell them what exactly had been alleged about Collins.

"Well, I think I speak for us all when I say that this man is worth taking in for questioning; so if I could ask you," he gestured towards Nancy, "and DC Hay to go and apprehend him, please. DI Walker is going to lead the rest of you in digging up Collins' file; and _I'm_ going to sit in on the rest of this interview and see what makes Mr Humes tick."

While everyone else dispersed as instructed, Ste turned to look at Nancy and was relieved to see her smiling at him just as kindly as she'd been doing all week.

At least there wouldn't be any tension between them. It seemed that they would be in each other's company on the job quite frequently.

"We best get going then," she said brightly, going to pick up her things. He followed suit and tailed out of the building after her.

When he saw Brendan leaning against the front desk on the way out, Ste quickly averted his eyes. Somehow he knew the man was still watching him, though.

The question was, was that due to a brewing grudge, or the burning desire they'd both felt in his flat the night before?

He _shouldn't_ have been hoping for the latter; not after the rather scary moment upstairs. Not with the rather pressing issue of whether the guy was a murderer still hanging over his head.

Above all else, he certainly shouldn't have been having these thoughts even _before_ all that.

So why was he?

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~**_

They'd arrested the latest suspect after meeting uniformed officers at Mark Collins' address.

When Ste and Nancy arrived back at MIT just ahead of the suspect, they were told that Brendan would be conducting the interview.

It made sense, given that it was him who had been told all about Collins by Jeffrey Humes.

"DC Hayton, I have another job for you. DC Hay, please sit in on the interview when the suspect arrives," The DCI instructed before disappearing with Nancy.

Ste raised his head, clocking Brendan as he waltzed into the interview room a few metres away.

There was no getting out of this. Never before had he wanted to escape a part of his occupation so badly - even when it came to visiting bereaved family members.

The door opened behind him then, and he moved aside to allow the two uniformed police officers to bring in the handcuffed man.

They signed him in at the desk and searched him, then marched him into the interview room.

With a nervous sigh that had nothing to do with his first suspect interview in a new job, Ste headed over in the same direction and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Brendan was sitting opposite the man, his back straight and his eyes hard as he maintained eye contact.

"For the purpose of the tape," he began after pressing play. "The suspect will state his name."

There was no solicitor present telling the man what to do or say, so he remained silent. But Brendan glared at him quite brutally, until finally he did as he was told.

"Mark Collins," he said with a smirk.

"Mr Collins," Brendan drawled in a low, potentially dangerous voice. Ste got the feeling that it wouldn't take much goading to make the Irishman snap.

"What would ye say if I told ye we've been informed of your involvement in the murder of Peter Boyle?"

Collins didn't so much as blink in response.

"No? Name doesn't ring a bell? What about Brian Hunt?" Brendan probed of the other recent victim. There was a dangerous edge to his tone that suggested he was already more than convinced of the man's guilt.

Still Collins declined to comment, and Ste wondered how many more questions the DS would throw his way before the lack of response sent him insane.

Then again, this was a detective that had probably reached insanity long before Ste had turned up in Chester.

"How about if I told ye we have information that ye had a personal grievance against poor old Mr Boyle? Or that we have reason to believe Mr Hunt owed ye a substantial amount of money?"

This time Collins actually _grinned_, but again, he refused to answer the question.

Ste had to conclude that the man was far too shifty to be innocent. Surely someone without a grudge or a motive would have fought off any allegations tooth and nail?

Even most suspects who did have something to hide actively denied it more often than not. The fact that Mark Collins was doing nothing but staring them defiantly in the face certainly didn't make him look less guilty.

Ste watched closely as Brendan leaned forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving Collins' face.

"Well, I thought ye might like to know that we currently have officers making enquiries where ye work, drink and generally spend most of your time. So either ye tell us, or somebody else does."

There was a snort of amusement from the suspect - the first noise he'd made since uttering his name.

Ste's eyes shot over to look at him, disgusted. Brendan looked ready to erupt.

He didn't, though. Instead he suspended the interview and stopped the tape, instructing the officers waiting outside to put the man in a cell.

Following the Sergeant outside, Ste leaned against the wall and felt brave enough to start a conversation with him.

"So, d'you think he did it?" he asked. It was a sincere question; he really wanted to know.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming out that he was asking the opinion of a man people thought of as a killer.

He ignored it.

"I think they both did it, Steven," Brendan told him coolly.

Ste wanted to ask why. A smaller part of him - the one with a death wish, he suspected - wanted to ask how he was able to enforce the law so easily while simultaneously scaring people beyond their wits.

Unless that was just him; but somehow he doubted it.

"So what now?" he asked, looking in the direction their latest suspect had just been taken.

"Now?" Brendan raised an eyebrow. "Now we wait for Hayton's return, Steven."

Ste had gathered that Nancy was the one visiting Collins' hangouts. He nodded, shifting about awkwardly on his feet.

After several minutes of silence, he was just on the point of going upstairs to see if there was any _real_ work he could be doing when Brendan suddenly cleared his throat.

"She was our best friend," he mumbled in a half-whisper.

The words were so faint that Ste wondered if he'd really heard them. "What?"

"Lynsey. She was one of my best friends. Her and my sister, they grew up together. Then when we moved here from Ireland they met Nancy. It's...still too painful for her to talk about. Chez too."

Caught completely off guard at the sudden mention of the sensitive topic, Ste struggled to match the Brendan Brady he'd been warned about to the man standing in front of him now.

He didn't sound like a cold-blooded killer. Then again, neither did most people. That didn't make them innocent.

The look on the Sergeant's face was exactly that, though. Innocent.

Broken, almost.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Ste found himself saying, because he felt truly guilty. "I didn't mean to upset anyone."

Brendan nodded. "I think I can guess what that buddy of yours told ye about me."

"He only told me about Lynsey dying," he lied. "He and his girlfriend knew her, too."

The Irishman nodded again, and Ste was surprised to note that he hadn't seen through him.

"Right. That's...good."

Ste decided to call his bluff, even though this had nothing to do with him.

"What did you think Justin had told me?"

He kept his voice neutral, and Brendan returned his gaze with a sharp look that for some reason seemed to falter as soon as he met Ste's eyes.

His eyes were far too honest, the younger man thought. They gave away what he really thought about people without him having to utter a word.

And the fact was that, even when he was secretly digging for information, he still _wanted_ the guy.

Brendan shuffled closer to him and leaned in. Ste fought off an insane urge to lean in as well, and waited tensely for the older man's next words.

"I assumed he would have told ye _I_ was the one who killed her."

The blunt intensity of that statement hung in the air for a few minutes; not least because they were having this conversation in the most inappropriate of places.

Ste hadn't expected him to be quite so direct; and neither did he know why Brendan was saying any of this to him.

One minute he was being warned never to mention a dead woman's name ever again. The next he was having a heart-to-heart about her with the very same person.

When he still hadn't responded, Brendan straightened up and spoke again.

"Well, aren't ye gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Ste was genuinely baffled.

"Whether I did it."

This was a trap, he thought. It had to be. But what else, other than more verbal abuse, could a Sergeant really throw at him? Even _this_ one?

"Oh. Right. Well, did you...?"

"No."

And there it was. A straight answer, just like that. And Ste felt something shift in his head.

He _believed_ him.

"Okay," was all he said in reply.

Now it was Brendan's turn to look confused. "Okay?" he repeated warily.

"Yeah," Ste nodded, a new confidence filling him. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

After a minute, they shared a look of mutual understanding. Then the doors of the building burst open, and in rushed Nancy with another colleague.

By the look on her face, it was clear they had been told enough to warrant bringing Mark Collins back over for another round of questioning.

Grabbing the keys to the cells, Brendan turned to Ste before marching down the hallway.

"Shall we, Steven?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all for your lovely comments as always! Three things: 1) writing about sexual tension isn't my usual thing in _any_ story – you'll all have to be the judge here lol. 2) I don't own any of the copyrighted things mentioned in this chapter i.e. Guinness etc... & 3) If any of you are on Twitter, you can find me there as ** LauraLovatic** :) Say hi if you like! Hope you enjoy**

**x**

Once again, the day ended with a trip to the pub.

The female DC had, as expected, returned to MIT armed with valuable information gained by talking to as many of Mark Collins' acquaintances as could be found.

After a few hours of yet more questioning; during which Brendan had even let Ste take the lead for a bit, they had had to call it a night.

The man still wasn't talking, and they couldn't hold him for longer than a night unless they were going to charge him.

They had already confirmed Humes' guilt, and everyone was equally as certain of Collins'. It was just a matter of being that bit more clever in the interview room.

For now, though, talk of the job was firmly off the agenda.

"A pint of lager please, Darren," Ste said the moment he reached the bar. He received a raised eyebrow, and then a nod of recognition in return.

Ste realised that he hadn't even hesitated in greeting the barman like he was an old friend.

He waited for his drink, handed the money over and then left Brendan at the bar to join Nancy at their table.

He couldn't help but grin cheekily at her as she sat drumming her fingers on the table, waiting for her own drink.

"You'll never have to spend any money in here, will you?" he teased.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, not clicking onto his meaning. "What?"

"Well, either Brendan buys your drinks, or Darren gives you them for free right?"

"Ste!" she let out an incredulous laugh that at least told him he hadn't offended her.

"True though, in't it?" he cheeked back just as Brendan sat down to join them.

"What is?"

Nancy took her glass of wine from him and sipped it gratefully. "Nothing. Apparently I'm getting free drinks for life," she told him.

Brendan downed half of his pint of Guinness and gave her a quizzical look. Then something seemed to dawn on him.

"Ah. Ye and Osborne Junior over there. Well, ye are hardly setting yourself up for love if ye can't even be bothered to go and speak to the poor sap. Go on, the next round's on ye. I'll have the same again."

Ste chuckled as Nancy gaped at Brendan in annoyance. "You've literally only just started on your first pint!"

The Irishman picked up his glass and drained the rest of it's contents.

"And now I've _finished_ it."

With a sigh of exasperation, she stood up and dug out her purse from her bag, even though Ste knew full well she wouldn't actually need it.

"You want anything, Ste?" she asked.

He looked down at his still untouched pint of lager and shook his head before lifting it to his lips to take a swig.

"Nah, you're alright ta. You have a nice chat with your fella," he teased.

"Shut up."

Ste smirked, as did Brendan, as Nancy headed over to the bar. There had been an easiness about the last couple of hours that had doubled his confidence; and he felt himself beginning to fit into the fold.

Funny how the entire day had been turned around by the word 'no'.

No, Brendan Brady _wasn't_ a killer. He may only have his word on it, but Ste had no doubt on that fact.

Which made no sense, considering the man still scared him.

But the fear was doing strange things to him; he just didn't want to escape Brendan's company.

"So," the Irishman said suddenly, pulling Ste out of his thoughts. "Are ye glad ye came?"

"What, to the pub?"

The older man shook his head in amusement. "No. Not here. To the village," he probed with interest.

Ste pondered that for a few minutes. Initially, the only gladness he'd felt at moving to Chester was due to the fact that he was getting away from his old life. Well, _some_ aspects of it, at least.

Less than a week in, though, and it certainly wasn't the new surroundings that was holding his interest.

"Why?" he asked, choosing to be vague. "_Should_ I be glad?"

Brendan scratched his neck absently, then shrugged. "It was just a passing question."

"Bit random though, in't it?"

"Very defensive, aren't ye, Steven?"

"I was only joking!" Ste surrendered with a laugh.

"Hmm."

"Hmm? What are we talking about here, then?" Nancy asked as she returned to the table with Brendan's Guinness and another glass of wine for herself.

"How many free drinks we might be able to squeeze out of your boyfriend tonight," Ste replied, egged on by the not-no-subtle wink he spotted Darren sending her way as she took her seat.

Nancy tutted at him as she moved onto her second glass, her face taking on an expression of mock irritation.

"For the last time, he is _not_ my boyfriend! And what's happened to you, Ste? I thought I'd found a new ally; you've been so lovely all week! Has Brendan dragged you over to the dark side already?"

Ste chanced a look at their Sergeant to find he was looking at him almost lustfully; indicating that he'd probably have liked to drag him off somewhere right then and there.

It made his heart skip a beat. Feeling rather hot all of a sudden, Ste turned away to wink at Nancy instead.

"Sorry," he offered with regard to his teasing. "But I couldn't help it - you do realise Darren's still looking over here?"

She glanced over. Now the bar man was waving her over. Her two companions half-expected her to stubbornly ignore him just to prove a point; but she did the opposite and went to talk to her admirer for a second time.

A minute later, she was back. "He's taking me for dinner when he finishes his shift in a bit," she announced.

Brendan raised an eyebrow, looking as though he wanted to protest, but apparently realising that he was powerless to change her mind.

Ste, however, tried to stifle a laugh. Nancy had gone from flat-out denial to overly-keen in a matter of minutes.

She clocked both of their faces and, acknowledging their differing opinions, held one finger up to silence them before either one spoke.

"Not a word," she said firmly, picking up her drink. "See you in the morning."

And with that, she headed back over to the bar, leaving Ste and Brendan alone.

"Great. I wonder where they'll be dining: McDonalds or Burger King," Brendan remarked drily.

"You're the one who told her to go and chat to him!" Ste pointed out. "Why did you do that if you think so little of him?" he added, remembering the last time the subject of Darren Osborne was raised.

"I wanted the free drink," the older man replied, then downed what was left in his glass as if to illustrate his point.

Ste rolled his eyes. "'Course you did. Well, I might just head off home."

He had a feeling the man was planning to get drunk, and despite his longing to stay in the man's company, he didn't much fancy having to look after him should he get too hammered.

He'd already had enough experience in babysitting drunkards to last him a lifetime.

A hand on his arm stopped him from leaving the table.

"Ye could always come back to mine for a nightcap," Brendan suggested, his eyes warm and inviting.

"Thanks, but I don't really fancy another drink. Want to keep a clear head for tomorrow," he excused, serious about that despite his other reservations.

"Fine, I won't judge ye. We'll go back for coffee then."

Ste let out a giggle at that. "What, you're actually gonna stop at two beers?" he asked sceptically.

Brendan's lips curled into a slight smile. "Ye say that like ye know me, Steven. I don't spend all my leisure time getting smashed, ye know."

"Don't you?" Ste was only half joking.

He leaned further across the table, breathing out his one word response. "No."

"Alright then. You got anything decaf?"

Brendan smirked, getting to his feet. "Ye are looking at the brother of a woman known as the hostess with the largest variety of coffee known to man. Lucky for you, I just happen to live with her. Come on."

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ **_

Brendan hadn't been exaggerating. Although there was no sign of Cheryl Brady, there _was_ an entire cupboard full of various types of coffee in the upstairs flat they shared.

"Dry roasted, French coffee...there ye are, decaf. Knock yeself out," he announced, taking the correct packet out of the kitchen cupboard and setting it on the side.

Ste stared after the Sergeant in amazement as he sloped off to sit on the sofa, resting his feet on the table in front of him.

"Hang on..._you_ invited _me_ over for coffee, but I have to make it myself?"

Brendan didn't turn around, just called out, "I'll have the same if ye are making it."

Sighing to himself, Ste conceded that he did actually fancy a coffee, so he found the kettle, filled it up and switched it on to boil.

"How come your Cheryl has so much caffeine in the flat, then?" he asked above the sound of the boiling water.

"She met a bloke last year - rich fella, snobby parents. He mentioned taking her to meet them one day, and Chez insisted they come here so she could prove she was good enough for their son. She went a bit overboard."

_No kidding_, Ste thought. "So what happened?"

Brendan shook his head. "He broke it off with her before it could happen. She and Lynsey ended up eating all the food she'd bought to impress Mr and Mrs Snob."

The casual mention of his deceased young friend winded him for a moment, and he closed his eyes against the pain of it before continuing.

"Anyway, it's taking a bit longer to get rid of everything else. Trust me, Chez wouldn't care if ye left here and took the whole lot of it with ye."

Ste felt for the poor woman; but not nearly enough to take all that coffee off her hands. He'd end up sick of the sight of the stuff.

Having made the hot drinks, he brought them over to the table and handed one of the mugs to Brendan, who mumbled what he took to mean as a thank you.

He sat down beside the other man and took a sip of his coffee. It was perfect. "Your sister has good taste," he commented.

"Shame the same can't be said for her taste in men," Brendan replied with a wry smile.

"I'm starting to feel quite sorry for the women in your life," Ste shot back with a smirk.

"Enough about _my_ life, Steven. Tell me something about yours."

He thought about it, and a smile spread across his face as he revealed the one thing about himself he was willing to shout from the rooftops.

"Okay," he replied. "I'm a dad."

A fleeting look of surprise crossed Brendan's face. Ste caught it just before the man composed himself.

"Me too," the Irishman shared. Ste failed at hiding his own reaction after hearing that.

He wondered whether they were both thinking the same thing as they swapped details about their kids. How did two men who are so evidently attracted to their own gender end up with two children each?

"So why aren't they with ye?" Brendan asked, and Ste tried to ignore the ache that formed in his chest just thinking about that.

"They're with their mam. It's better that way, at least for now," he explained with a sad smile. When he got a questioning look in response, he shook his head to make it clear he wasn't going to explain what he meant. Not yet, anyway. "What about your two?" he asked instead.

"Same as ye, I suppose. They're in Ireland with my ex. Eileen's not too keen on sending the boys here to see me. I'm too much of a nightmare, apparently. And that was _before _the accusations of murder..."

Ste looked away awkwardly. "She doubted you, then?"

Brendan smiled ironically. "Funnily enough, no." He shifted his body until he was sitting closer to the younger man. "Which reminds me. What was it that made _ye_ believe me when I told ye I didn't do it?"

It was a perfectly logical question. Ste hadn't even heard all the facts about what really happened to poor Lynsey; and yet he'd taken Brendan's word as gospel.

But beyond whatever connection they seemed to share, he had seen the truth on the man's face today; and in his eyes.

"I just knew, I guess," he finally replied, making no attempt to move away.

Brendan turned to look Ste in the eye, leaning in to study his face as he spoke. "Ye'd be the first person around here to say that, Steven."

The words were spoken in hushed tones, the man's voice so close to him now that a shiver went up Ste's spine. His head was telling him to get up and run for the door. It was the sensible thing to do; the _responsible_ thing to do given their working relationship.

His heart and the rest of his body was sending him the opposite message.

And then suddenly there was no more time for him to make a decision, because Brendan was kissing him. It was passionate, and yet also, _somehow_, gentle and tender. And Ste didn't want it to end; wanted to carry on like this forever because no one had _ever_ kissed him like this, and...

"What is it?" Brendan mumbled, rising to his feet in shock as Ste forced himself to pull away, stumbling to the other side of the room.

"What do you mean, _what is it_?" the younger man exclaimed anxiously, despite his body aching at the loss of contact that was all of his own doing. "We can't...this _can't_ happen. You're my DS!"

There was a silence while both of them thought that through. And then Brendan's voice echoed across the flat, loud, clear and determined.

"Is that really what you want?"

Ste didn't trust himself to speak anymore, but his resolve was already crumbling. The look of longing on his face must have said it all.

"I don't give a damn whether I'm ye Sergeant or not. I wouldn't care if ye were just the guy who makes the tea, Steven. Just come _here_."

It may have sounded like an order, and to a point, it was. But now Ste held all the cards. It was his choice alone what happened next.

And so he did the only thing he had the strength to do. He hurtled back towards Brendan, colliding into the man and almost knocking him off his feet as their lips crashed together again.

His last coherent thought, before putting his brain on hold, was that he would probably regret this later.

_Probably_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Your reviews for the last chapter were amazing guys! Thank you so much :)**

"Bren, I'm back!" called a booming female voice, making a startled Ste and Brendan spring apart.

The door opened two seconds later, revealing a tall blonde woman in stiletto heels as she wandered through to the flat.

"Chez, ye scared the hell out of me!" Brendan exclaimed, totally flustered.

The blonde, who Ste could now identify as the man's sister, rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"Oh yes Brendan, it's truly terrifying when the person ye live with calls out your name upon their return home. What's got your knickers in a twist, eh?" Then she glanced at Ste and smiled kindly. "Oh, hello love, we haven't been introduced..."

Cheryl looked to Brendan, waiting for him to do the polite thing. She frowned at her brother, noting that he seemed to be on a time delay.

"This is Steven - he's the new Constable at work," he told her after a minute. "And Steven, this is my little sister, Cheryl."

"Hiya," Ste smiled at her, feeling awkward; not to mention still breathless from their previous activity. His mouth tingled, the sensation of Brendan's lips still lingering there as he spoke.

"Nice to meet ye love - I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?"

He shook his head hurriedly. This was _her_ flat, after all. "No no, It's..."

"Bren, d'ye know what's up with Nancy?" Cheryl cut in, obviously not overly concerned with the answer to her last question. "I got a random text off her earlier saying she's on a date?!"

Brendan stared at his sister for half a minute, then replied, deadpan, "then it would appear she actually _is_ on a date."

Ste couldn't help but smile at the clueless expression on the younger Brady's face.

"Who with?"

"Osborne Junior."

"Darren?! Ye mean he finally got round to it? He took his time!"

Brendan merely grumbled in response. Ste was beginning to feel like a spare part, and in the silence that followed he turned to the man who, just minutes before. he'd been kissing as if his life depended on it.

"Er, I'm gonna make a move. Thanks for the...coffee," he mumbled, knowing that his eyes gave away the hidden meaning to his words.

"Ye don't have to go, Steven," Brendan replied softly. But Ste felt Cheryl's eyes on them, and he shook his head, trying to decline as politely as possible without making the man think he had any regrets.

He probably should have been wishing tonight had never happened; but it was too late for that now. He was too far gone.

"I know, but it's fine, really. It's getting late. I'll see you in the morning. Bye, Cheryl - it was nice to meet you."

"And ye, Steven. You're welcome here any time love," she told him warmly.

"Thank you. And call me Ste, everyone else does."

Cheryl nodded, but smirked knowingly at Brendan. "Everyone except this brother of mine, eh?"

With one last smile and a lingering parting look at the Sergeant, Ste wished them both goodnight and made his way outside.

He was halfway down the road when he heard it - the sound of his full name being called after him.

Brendan must have been running to catch up with him, because he reached his side in seconds.

"I'll walk ye home," the man informed him, and Ste stopped still and gave him a funny look.

"Thanks, right, but I don't need looking after."

"Who says that's what I'm trying to do?" Brendan asked with a low growl, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Catching on, Ste hesitated, then carried on walking. Brendan fell into step beside him.

"Well in that case...no," the younger man replied to the silent request without looking at him.

"Ye always spoil the fun, Steven."

"How would you know? You've known me less than a week."

"That's more than long enough to work ye out," Brendan smirked.

Ste doubted very much that the man could have worked him out so completely already. There were plenty of things he was holding back - and not just from _him_.

They reached Ste's flat within minutes, and he turned to look at him as he took his key from his pocket. He couldn't bring himself to mention what had happened between them tonight. How it had made him feel wasn't something he could vocalise quite yet.

"So, thanks. I'll see you at work," he said simply. Because the night _had_ to be over now - if he invited the man in, things would get out of hand. And as much as the idea appealed, he couldn't allow it to happen.

His professional conscience was starting to kick in. Where the hell had it been when he'd been about to _kiss_ the guy?

Brendan responded by crowding right into Ste's personal space. "Ye didn't think I'd let ye get away that easily, did ye?"

Ste's mind was a blur of swirling thoughts. He was far too distracted by how close Brendan's body was to his.

Somehow, though, he managed to force himself to move away and give him an equally strong answer.

"Well seeing as this is my place, and we're not in work right now...yeah, I did. You're not officially in charge of me until, what, eight o'clock tomorrow morning?"

Brendan wasn't going to be brushed off though. Once again he stepped towards him, reaching out to brush his fingers against the material of Ste's jacket.

"Is this a game to ye, Steven?"

He looked up, unsure as to whether the Irishman was serious. His face was blank, as far as he could tell.

Ste still wanted to kiss him again.

"No. I don't play games," he replied, his voice weakening more by the second.

"Hmm, I think ye do."

"In what way?"

Brendan removed his hands but made no move to step away as he regarded his young Constable.

"Well, first ye kissed me, and spent the next few minutes afterwards looking like ye missed my mouth already..."

So he'd noticed, then.

"...and _now_ ye can't get away from me quick enough. Bit of a mixed signal I'd say."

Ste shook his head. Wasn't it blindingly obvious that he still wanted him, even when his head was trying to say otherwise? He knew better than to admit that out loud, though.

"I told you, I want a clear head for the morning. Loads to do, right?"

Brendan let out a breath and eyed him suspiciously. "So what ye are saying, Steven, is that I give you a headache?"

Yes. He'd hit the nail on the head. The man made his head spin.

Ste sighed. "Look, I'm just going to go in now and get some sleep. I'm not playing games with you; I'm _not_ pretending that nothing happened back at yours. I'm just tired, and all I want for now is to be able to do my job tomorrow without anything that happens between us getting in the way."

There was a look in Brendan's eye that he couldn't decipher. Then the smirk that usually graced his features returned at full force, and Ste realised what he'd said to bring that on.

"Anything that _happens_?"

"Yeah. And?"

The Irishman raised an eyebrow. "Present tense?"

"Maybe not, if you never let me go inside. I'm knackered, me."

"Fine," Brendan conceded, before leaning in and planting another kiss on his lips – a move that Ste had failed to see coming in his state of growing exhaustion.

He didn't pull away though; didn't want to. It was the older man that finished things almost as quickly as they had started.

"Goodnight, then."

Clever sod. If the plan had been to lure him back into temptation, two could play at that game.

So he connected their mouths yet again, kissed the man until they were both breathless. After about a minute, he broke away, grinned and went to walk into the flat, getting the last word in as he cheerily called out to Brendan over his shoulder.

"Bye!"

As Ste slammed the door behind him, he didn't look back to see the stunned expression on Brendan's usually self-assured face.

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~**_

By the next morning, the burst of confidence he'd had the night before had disintegrated. For all his talk of behaving professionally when at work, Ste still felt somewhat out of his depth when he was told to return to the interview room alongside Brendan.

Thankfully the Sergeant seemed to have taken on board his words, though. The man didn't say anything to him that wasn't linked to the work they were doing, and it was a relief because one comment would have been enough to make his mind wander.

About fifteen minutes into the interview, DCI Osborne entered the room and gestured for him to come outside for a word. Brendan stayed put, while Collins did nothing more than smile as though he were interviewing for a job rather than over a criminal offence.

"The forensic results on Collins are in," the boss informed him quietly outside the door.

Ste frowned, despite understanding that there was obviously a significance here that would change what was going on on the other side of the door.

Why was the Chief telling _him_ this and not Brendan?

"Peter Boyle's DNA was found on Collins' shoe."

There was a beat of silence while he absorbed this information. This meant Brendan had got it spot on. Both Jeffrey Humes _and_ Mark Collins had had the victim's DNA on their shoes. So they'd kicked the man to death.

"Okay," Ste replied. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, now that I've told you, you can go back in there and finish the interview and then get him charged," DCI Osborne explained matter-of-factly.

"Me? But he's Brendan's suspect! He was convinced that Collins and Humes were in it together – he should be the one to do it, boss."

The older man observed him with a look of surprise, eventually nodding his agreement.

"Very well, then. Whatever you prefer, DC Hay. I'll be just upstairs if anyone needs me." And with that, he disappeared, leaving Ste in no doubt as to what he'd been trying to do.

He'd been giving him an opportunity to gain more respect in his career; and to blind-side Brendan at the same time. Ste wondered whether it was actually the latter that had driven DCI Osborne to pull him from that room alone.

The thing was, the ambitious side of him would have jumped at the chance to take the lead here. But he just couldn't do that to Brendan. The guy was totally unorthodox in his methods and manners on the job; but he was smart, and he knew far more than he let on.

Had Ste not been paying him extra attention due to their mutual attraction, he may never have caught on to all that.

Opening the door, he poked his head in and gestured urgently for Brendan to join him outside the room. He watched as the Irishman took one look at him, raised an eyebrow and then stopped the tape before instructing the two uniformed officers in the corner to stay put.

Seconds later, he was standing in front of him, an expectant look on his face.

"What is it, Steven?"

The moment he told him about the latest forensic results, Brendan's mouth curled into a knowing smile.

"Osborne tried to send ye back in with that on your own, didn't he?"

Ste's silence answered the question for him.

"That old git's still out to get me," he chuckled darkly.

_Still?_

"So why didn't ye do it?"

He found his voice in time to give him an honest answer. "I told him this was yours to finish – you _knew_ they were both guilty, didn't you?"

Brendan gave him a soft smile at that, and it warmed him through considerably.

"Thanks for not stitching me up. There's more than a few here that would've taken the praise happily," he muttered, bouncing back awkwardly on his heels.

"No problem."

Glancing back at the door, Brendan's gaze was confident once again, and he grinned at Ste before leading him back into the room.

"Come on, let's do this. I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy it."

Smiling himself, Ste felt somewhat stronger as he followed close behind. This was what it felt like to be appreciated; and it felt good.


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, this is the longest chapter so far...most of which was written via my phone while unwell and on cold capsules, so I hope it makes sense! Thank you very much for your comments – please keep reviewing and tell me what you think :)**

"You took your time!" Nancy proclaimed as Ste and Brendan walked through the doors of MIT.

Brendan looked over, sending an eye-roll her way. "We were charging a man with murder, Hayton, not ordering a coffee."

"Yes, well, some of us don't tend to enjoy it as much as you."

Ste watched them bickering playfully and passed by wordlessly to get to his desk.

There was no sign of Walker or DCI Osborne, despite what the boss had told him about being 'upstairs if you need me'.

"Speaking of enjoyment," Brendan remarked, sitting down himself now. "That sister of mine will be wanting all the gory details of your evening with lover-boy."

"There will be no such discussion, thank you very much!" Nancy said firmly. "I was taken out for dinner and that's the end of the matter."

"What, you mean you're not gonna see him again?" Ste asked, not convinced.

She blushed, despite herself. "Might do."

"Right, come on ye pair of slackers, back to work!" Brendan announced with an authoritative glare that Ste saw straight through.

Nancy threw her pen in the Sergeant's direction. "Oh sod off, you. Like you're even working yourself!"

"I just single-handedly brought two murderers to justice, actually. What have _ye_ been doing with yourself?"

Ste shot him a look of annoyance.

"Right, okay. _Steven_ and I brought the two scum bags to justice."

Brendan slipped him a nod as if to say, 'happy now?' and Ste returned the gesture in acknowledgement. That was evidently the best he was going to get from this man in terms of recognition.

"I hate to bruise your massive ego, Brady, but it's the Crown Prosecution Service that'll be 'bringing them to justice'," Nancy contradicted. "If you don't know that by now, then frankly I'm more than a bit concerned."

"Aw, let us have our moment, Nanc!" Ste interrupted. "That were my first collar in Chester, that."

"Sorry Ste, no offence intended," she said, holding up her hands in surrender before turning to Brendan. "The same _doesn't_ go for you - unless you stop with the remarks about Darren."

The Irishman ignored her. "Where the hell _are_ those two?" he demanded of their boss and his sidekick. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"You're the superior officer here, Brady - you tell us!"

Ste watched as the other man made a show of being deep in thought. It didn't go on for long.

"I've got nothing. We've caught the killers, and unless any other sick madmen decide to have a go today, I say we take an early lunch and then take it easy for the rest of the day."

Flicking his eyes to the door as Brendan spoke, Ste fully expected their DCI to show up just in time to put a halt to the plan.

But nothing happened, and he was hungry, so he got ready to move. Then Nancy shook her head at them.

"I don't suppose you've considered the possibility that perhaps Walker and the boss have had to dash off somewhere? We might be needed."

"Make up your mind, will ye? I thought ye wanted me to tell ye what to do!"

Nancy rolled her eyes at him. "Yes Brendan, I did. Work-wise!"

"There's nothing here _to_ do!"

_Oh give me strength! _Ste thought as he watched them bicker.

He wondered if he could get away with telling the Sergeant to shut up; whether having kissed him suddenly gave him that privilege. Maybe outside of work hours, he mused; when he could try and forget that Brendan was his DS.

"Oh shut up, you two!"

The booming voice that filled the room did not come from DCI Osborne. It was the authoritative tones of DI Walker, who slipped into the room without even Ste noticing, he was that distracted.

If this man and their DCI were skilled bank robbers instead of highly ranked police inspectors, they would probably get away with it every single time, Ste mused. That really didn't say much about his own skills.

Brendan and Nancy stopped their moaning and turned to look at the other man. Ste noted that Brendan looked less than impressed to have been reprimanded by the Inspector.

Clearly there was a long story attached to this animosity.

"Where's Jack?" Brendan demanded of him without pre-amble. Apparently he preferred to answer to a man who was out to get him rather than let Walker tell him what to do.

"He's at the hospital. Family emergency. I had to drive him there, he was quite shaken up."

Nancy's face drained of colour, clearly thinking of Darren. "What's happened?" she asked, sounding as though she was half a step away from pure panic.

Walker studied her curiously. "It's his granddaughter - well, his missus, it's _her_ granddaughter really," he explained unnecessarily. "Overdosed this morning, from what I heard. She's in a bad way."

"Esther?"

"So I'm told," he replied disinterestedly. Meanwhile Nancy had picked up her phone - something Ste had learned by now that she usually _never_ did during paperwork hours in MIT.

Presumably she was texting her new boyfriend out of concern.

Brendan, on the other hand, looked about ready for a row. "And I suppose this leaves ye in charge, does it?" he asked of DI Walker.

The man merely shrugged. "I prefer to think of it as 'leading'. Right then, Brendan. I trust you've completed the reports on Humes and Collins?"

Ste put a palm to his forehead, annoyed with himself. He should have known that would be the next task; and he should have been involved in it.

Once again he had let Brendan distract him.

"All in hand thank ye, Walker," the Irishman replied coolly.

The DI grinned at them all. "Fantastic. In that case, I'll be in the office."

Seconds later he was strolling happily into the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked a bit _too_ cheerful, and now Ste could understand some of Brendan's frustration.

He wasn't dense enough to side with him on everything, though. He could already tell when the man was lying through his teeth.

"You've not even started that report, have you?"

Nancy looked up from her phone and rolled her eyes. "Of course he hasn't, Ste," she answered for him. "Brendan isn't normal enough for simple things like that."

"While ye're talking about me as if I'm not here, shorty, is there anything else ye'd like to add?" Brendan's arms were folded across his chest as he huffed out his words.

"No, that'll do for now."

"I think I'm gonna do some work now," Ste announced above them. "Feel free to join me any time!"

He stood from his seat to go and look for the appropriate paperwork, doing his best to ignore Brendan's burning gaze as he went.

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~**_

They were in the pub, about to drink away the pain of a dull afternoon's work when his phone rang.

Ste was at the bar buying a round in, and he turned away to answer the call.

"Amy? You don't usually ring on a..." he was cut off from voicing his confusion by the distressed tones of the mother of his two children.

"Ste! I don't know what to do, he's found us!"

His heart sank, and he instantly felt sick. "What?"

As she babbled on incoherently, his gut feeling told him there was no need to ask the next question. But he had to have confirmation.

"Right, calm down Ames. Start again. Who's found you?"

He heard her take a few deep breaths, but it did little to soothe her as she uttered the name of the person that, deep down, still haunted him.

"Terry."

Ste almost dropped the phone before a desperate sense of hopeful logic overcame him.

"But...but he's in prison; it can't be him," he told her, though he was trying to convince _himself_ more than he was her.

Amy Barnes wasn't daft; and as a police officer, neither was he. The man they were talking about knew people who could do damage on his behalf. He wouldn't let being locked up stop him.

Ste had known that; had thought that leaving Manchester would keep his family safe, leave them undetected by Terry.

The sacrifice had been for nothing.

"What's happened? How do you know-"

"A letter...it came in the post this morning," Amy told him on a shaky breath.

"This morning? Why didn't you call me sooner?" He was panicking now - he'd just been sat writing reports while the three most precious people in his life were already in danger; already had some kind of threat hanging over them.

"I didn't want to scare you. I thought maybe it was nothing, but what if he gets to the kids? I don't know how to protect them, Ste!"

Instinct kicked in then. "Get some things together for you and the kids. I'm coming to get you."

Ste didn't wait for an answer, just hung up and raced over to find Nancy and Brendan at their table.

"Sorry, I've got to go. Family emergency."

Brendan stood from his seat, and the look on his face was so identical to the one Nancy had worn over Darren earlier that, had the circumstances been different, he might have laughed in disbelief.

"What is it, Steven?"

"It's Amy and my kids, they're in danger and I...I need to get to them, bring them back here."

Fumbling to find Justin's number in his phone, he stopped abruptly when he remembered that his flat mate was away with Hannah for a few days; the two seemingly having forgotten their argument from a couple of nights prior.

His urgency to rush out of the pub and straight to Manchester was halted by his lack of immediate transport. He needed a car. And a driver, for that matter.

"How are ye getting to them?" Brendan asked then.

"I don't know." A taxi was probably the most logical choice - expense no object when it came to something like this.

But in his frazzled and terrified state, Ste didn't have the capability to think of this. He felt as useless as any other man who was powerless to look after his own family.

Brendan's voice broke through his thoughts. "Come on then, I'll drive ye."

"But it's Manchester," he explained hurriedly.

"Doesn't matter. I'm taking ye."

Brendan headed out of the pub, expecting him to follow without any more argument. Ste looked to Nancy, who gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"He might be a nutter at times, but he'll do anything for anyone he cares about," she said, an undercurrent of secret knowledge in her tone that he had no time to address. "Take care, okay?"

He nodded and disappeared outside to find Brendan behind the wheel of his car, the engine all started and ready to go. When he got in, the Irishman wasted no time in getting them on their way.

"Thanks," Ste mumbled, meaning it 100% but feeling awkward about having to tell him exactly what was going on. He wasn't ready to go into it yet.

"It's not a problem."

He waited for the inevitable questions; but none came. Then, in the silence that followed, His phone beeped. It was Amy, now trying to suggest getting her and the children onto a train.

He rang her back, told her first to call her father to come over to hers, and then to stay put because he was on his way.

She sounded so full of fear - worse even than she had done in her initial phone call - that Ste's hands were shaking by the time he hung up the phone.

He was a mess already, and he hadn't even read what was in that letter yet.

"Hey," Brendan's voice was gentle, laced with concern. "Ye okay?"

It was a stupid question really, but he couldn't make a point of it when this man was giving up his evening to help him. The Sergeant didn't even have an inkling of what he was getting into - even as indirectly as his involvement was.

Something told him that it wouldn't faze Brendan one iota, though.

"Yeah," he replied, then paused, catching the look in his eye. "Well, no. Not really."

"We'll be there soon, Steven. Then they'll be safe, I promise ye."

"How can you possibly promise me that? You don't know what I'm dealing with."

"Only because ye haven't told me anything." His tone was neutral; the complete opposite of accusatory, but it still made Ste feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, I just...I can't talk about it. Not yet."

"Okay."

He looked over at him again. There was nothing on Brendan's face to suggest that he was bothered about being kept in the dark.

"What, you don't mind? You're driving me all this way when you could be drinking your own body weight in beer right now, and you don't think I owe you an explanation?"

Ste was aware that he seemed to be double-crossing his own feelings in the matter here. The fact was, he didn't feel comfortable talking about his life story - but he knew the man deserved to be told something, at least.

"Well, I was hoping to spend the evening with ye anyway," Brendan stated casually. "Obviously this wasn't what I had in mind, but I'm in the right company."

"Are you seriously trying it on with me right now?" he asked incredulously. Was he _that_ naive that he'd been taken in by Brendan's false sensitivity?

"No."

Oh. That did sound quite genuine. This was awkward.

"I don't drive all this way for just anybody, ye know."

"Right," he conceded. "So what makes me so worth it, then, if I can't even tell you why we're in this situation?"

Brendan's eyes flicked to his for a fraction of a second before they returned to focus on the road. It was a look that Ste would have missed had he not been studying him the whole time.

"Because ye trusted me when I told ye I'm not a killer. Just took my word for it, no questions asked. Now I'm returning the favour."

Their conversation dwindled as he considered the man's words. There was no banter between them now; just honesty and pure vulnerability.

The warmth that spread through him now wasn't related to passion this time - it was about a different kind of connection.

This man knew pain. He wasn't alone.

By the time they were parking outside Amy's building a while later, Ste had switched into his police training mode. The only way to get his family to safety was to act as though he was just doing his job.

But to him, protecting these three people _was_ his job.

"Back in a bit," he said to Brendan, who nodded. He looked as though he wanted to do more to help, but also seemed to know better than to intervene.

Amy's dad's car was parked on the drive, and it was Mike himself who answered the door.

The older man didn't put up a fight about Ste taking his daughter and grandchildren away. Once upon a time he would have tried to control the situation himself; but tonight Mike Barnes had clearly realised that the nightmare they were facing was much bigger than that.

Saying goodbye and promising him that he'd look after the three of them, Ste left Amy, their son and daughter to say their own goodbyes to Mike as he carried their three duffel bags to the car.

He locked them in the boot and got back in the passenger seat.

"All sorted?" Brendan asked.

Ste could only nod a half-hearted agreement. Nothing was 'sorted', other than the indefinite plan that there would soon be three new residents in Chester.

He didn't even know how the living arrangements were going to work. While Justin was away there was room for them to stay - that was all he could be sure of at the moment.

One of the back doors opened, and Amy instructed Leah to climb up onto the seat before lifting Lucas in to sit next to her. It wasn't until all three of them were safely strapped in and Brendan was pulling away that she thought to look up and around her.

"Hello," she said tentatively. Her voice was polite but guarded, as if she might suspect every male stranger to be linked to Terry and, therefore, to the danger they were facing.

Brendan sent her a smile via the mirror, and after half a minute Amy returned it.

"Hi," he replied, managing to sound as though they were meeting in an ordinary, everyday situation.

"This is Brendan," Ste announced, wondering whether he should have told Amy about the man who was helping them beforehand.

The kids were looking on in wide-eyed wonder, so he directed his next words to them.

"Brendan is daddy's friend from work. He's going to take us back to where I live so you and mummy can have a little holiday."

As he'd hoped, Leah and Lucas now had big grins on their faces – the power of the simple word 'holiday'. As for Amy, her whole demeanour suddenly relaxed.

"Oh, you're a police officer," she sighed, visibly relieved.

Ste introduced each of them to Brendan by name, while simultaneously trying to convey to Amy that his 'work friend' knew nothing about what was going on.

It was late by the time they arrived back in Chester - Brendan having driven much more slowly and cautiously than he would if they were alone.

Ste and Amy carried their now sleeping children inside and put them to bed in his room, while Brendan brought their luggage into the flat for them.

The Irishman decided to leave them to it when Amy announced exhaustion, having pressed the letter discreetly into Ste's hand to read to himself. He kissed her on the cheek and told her he'd see her in the morning, telling her to sleep in Justin's room and that he would take the sofa. Surprised but relieved that their big discussion could be put off even further, he let out a long sigh before he spoke again.

"Will you stay for a bit?" he asked of Brendan just as he'd reached the front door.

The other man turned and looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a nod, he retreated away from the door and joined him on the sofa.

"You want a beer or anything?"

"No thanks."

Ste looked away, suddenly worried that he'd scared him away even as the man sat beside him as per his request.

"Listen, thanks for what you did for me tonight," he said, feeling uncomfortable. "I won't forget it. You don't have to stay - I shouldn't have asked."

Brendan reached out a hand to touch Ste's face - a light, tingling contact that had him closing his eyes and revelling in it.

"Steven," he said softly, apparently reading between the lines here. "It's not a catastrophe if I turn down a drink. Doesn't mean I'm planning on making a getaway."

"Why not?" Ste wondered aloud. "I would if I were you." The letter sat in his pocket, the contents taunting him as he voiced what should probably have been the least of his worries.

He knew he should have been preparing himself for whatever it was Terry was up to; but right now his every hope was pinned on what the man sitting next to him would say next.

"Ye baffle me, Steven. Really ye do. I've spent all week working with ye and it didn't take me long to work out how smart ye are. And yet that brain of yours can't identify with what's staring ye right in the face."

Ste rolled his eyes, fear momentarily disappearing. "Well look at that, you managed to be nice for a few hours and now that time's up, is it?"

"Apparently being 'nice' - if that's what ye want to call it - doesn't mean anything anymore."

"You what?"

"What else does a man have to do around here to prove he cares?"

Ste blinked up at him. "Never said you didn't," he replied. "All I'm saying is that my life isn't just a little bit complicated; it's messed up."

"And ye don't think mine is?"

"Maybe _you_ are...I wouldn't say your life is."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a lunatic!"

Their whispered argument held no real malice and they both knew it; but now Ste's use of that word served to sober his thoughts.

"You're _not_ a lunatic," he muttered apologetically. "I know one of them already - a few in fact."

He winced then, both at the memories that came into his head and at the fact that he'd just let a personal detail slip out.

"Hey..." Brendan pulled gently on Ste's hands, which he'd used to hide his face. Expecting a spiel of soothing words, he allowed himself to be drawn into the man's arms.

"I _am_ a lunatic," Brendan announced instead. "I just like to think of myself as the more respected loon."

It got a smirk out of Ste, bringing him out of the darkness - if only for a few more minutes. "Right. You prefer to carry out the more minor offences like impersonating the DCI, and driving like you're constantly in the middle of a car chase."

"I drove responsibly enough tonight, didn't I?"

"I'm guessing that's only because you've got kids of your own, so you know better."

"Ah, a compliment," Brendan grinned wolfishly.

"Don't get used to it," Ste yawned, his head drooping against the man's chest.

"I should go, let ye get some sleep. Amy and the kids will need ye well-rested tomorrow."

"Do I get a kiss goodnight?" The younger man was still conscious – just about. Tomorrow he knew he would regret being so bold, but at this moment in time he _needed_ this kiss – felt it might give him some courage to face what lay ahead.

Brendan chuckled, and Ste could have sworn he saw a look of amused affection pass over the man's face – but he knew he could easily have imagined what he wanted to see.

"Goodnight, Steven," the DS murmured after pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It was no less breathtaking than the others they'd shared; only this time it wasn't leading anywhere. At least not tonight.

It was a kiss that held the promise of something deeper than passion - care and security. And after the night he'd had, that was something Ste now craved more than ever.

He just got the feeling almost everyone else in the village would doubt Sergeant Brendan Brady even _had_ the heart that he'd already seen for himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you** **so much to everyone reading – it's always lovely getting an email through with a review or a favourite :) **

**I have decided, after my last one shot **Can't Hide Forever **was posted last week, that I'm now just going to concentrate on finishing this story (as well as **Impressions**)** **before stopping writing Stendan fic altogether. I was quite late to this fandom, so just want to say thanks again for the feedback you've all sent my way. Hope you like chapter ten!**

It was a restless sleep that Ste had on the sofa that night. The letter, which he'd finally forced himself to open, was barely more than a few lines of handwritten scribbles.

As a Constable, he would probably have scoffed at how pathetic it was - an indirect threat on a tatty sheet of paper.

But this was _his_ life; _nothing_ about this was laughable.

By six am, Ste gave up on sleep altogether and got up to make a hot drink. By the time he returned to the sofa, Amy was there. He almost jumped at how suddenly she had appeared. Clearly she'd been suffering the same way he had been all night.

"You okay?" he asked her, attempting a smile.

She smoothed her hair away from her pale face and managed half a smile back.

"Have to be, don't I?" she replied, gesturing with her eyes towards the room where their kids were sleeping.

Having not even taken a sip yet, Ste offered her his mug of tea; but Amy shook her head and made her way to the kitchen to make her own.

"You going into work today?" she asked while the kettle was boiling.

He hesitated, knowing that he would probably have to. Amy turned around in time to catch the worry that was written all over his face.

"Ste, we'll be fine here, honestly! You do what you have to do, me and the kids are perfectly safe now."

"If you really believe that, then why couldn't you sleep?"

She avoided his gaze as the kettle conveniently came to the boil, turning away to pour her tea.

"Because," Amy said carefully. "I know we can't stay here forever."

Ste frowned at the implications of that. He decided that if need be, they wouldn't have to go anywhere.

"I'm not having you go back there yet. Anyway, you know you _could_ stay, if you wanted to? I could find somewhere bigger for us to live; you, me and the kids."

Amy's smile told him she appreciated the thought. But he knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

"Ste, this was supposed to be your fresh start. I know you left Manchester to keep us safe, but I want the same for you too," she said, wandering over to sit with him. "How are you ever going to find a man if you and I are living together like a couple?"

"Leah and Lucas come first," he insisted. "And so do you. Any bloke that comes into my life will have to accept that."

She didn't argue again, and in the silence Ste thought about Brendan. After what the Irishman had done for him and his family the night before, it seemed clear that he more than understood Ste's priorities.

Besides, there had been no talk of what this thing between them even was. Beyond a strong mutual attraction and a connection, did they actually _have _any sort of relationship status?

An hour later, after they'd eaten and he'd got ready for work, Ste and Amy decided to let the kids sleep in. She made a call to the school and nursery in Salford, letting them know there had been a family emergency and that Leah and Lucas wouldn't be back for a little while.

In turn, Ste picked up his own phone and dialled an old familiar number, his hands shaking while he waited for someone to answer.

"Hello, this is Ste Hay," he said after a further minute. "Could I speak to DI Chambers, please?"

_**~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~ EXPOSURE ~**_

Walker was still in charge - and apparently still lording it up in DCI Osborne's office - when Ste arrived in MIT.

He could tell this was exactly what was going on by the look on Brendan's face.

"Cheer up, it's Friday," he greeted in what he hoped what an upbeat tone.

Nancy and Brendan stared at him in surprise as he went to sit at his desk.

"We weren't sure if you'd make it in today!" Nancy said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he lied. "What did you tell him?" he added, head tilting in the direction of the office and their DI.

"Nothing," Brendan replied softly, his voice a sharp contrast to the look of contempt that had graced his features just before he'd noticed Ste's arrival.

"We thought you might phone in yourself," Nancy elaborated by way of explanation. "But we'd both have backed you up if DI Walker had asked any questions about it."

He nodded, immensely glad that nothing had been said about his personal life. At least not to the Inspector.

Just as Ste was expecting the other DC to ask him about the events of the night before, the office door burst open.

"There's been a fatal domestic incident on Crown Road - a young woman. Brendan, Ste, get yourselves down there. Nancy, if I could borrow you for a few words please?"

DI Walker disappeared back inside the office again, leaving a disgruntled Brendan and Nancy in his wake.

Ste was the only one not having a moan as they all went about doing as instructed.

"What the hell is that about? '_A few words'_?!"

Brendan ignored her. "Come on, Steven, before I change my mind and start rearranging our charming DI's face."

Distracted on the way to Brendan's car by a text from Amy, Ste barely shrugged in response.

_"Forgot to say, please thank that friend of yours from last night. What's his name again? Brian?"_

If he hadn't been so consumed by recent events, he would have laughed, then corrected her straight away. As it was, he just replied with a simple 'okay', then checked that she and the kids were alright.

They were, which at least gave him some temporary relief.

When they'd got into the car, Brendan turned to look him over. "Ye okay, Steven?"

A couple of days before, he would have chirped insistently that he was absolutely fine. In fact, he had done just that on his first day.

Now however, even after only five days of knowing this man; of breaking down a few barriers and eventually kissing each other senseless, Ste found that he couldn't bring himself to pretend anymore.

"Not really," he replied with a sigh. "Oh, Amy wanted to say thank you, by the way."

Brendan started the engine and began the journey to Crown Street. "It was no trouble," he said easily.

"I don't know what we'd have done without you," Ste continued in a small voice.

"Hey," the Sergeant soothed, his voice trailing off as he seemed at a temporary loss for words. Even throughout all this, the car's speed dial remained on target with the current road limit.

Noticing this, Ste smiled back at him, without giving away that it wasn't just his unlikely gentility, but the mixture of it and his erratically speedy driving that had managed to cheer him up.

"I really hope we don't die in your car before we can get to this poor dead woman," he remarked drily.

"Nobody dies in my car, Steven."

"That confident, are you?" he challenged, eyebrows raised.

"Always."

The street was swarming with uniformed police and neighbours when they arrived at the scene.

Ste watched as Brendan swooped into action, asking a member of uniform what the specifics were and where the body was.

They were then led inside a pristine looking house, right through to the kitchen where the young women was lying on the floor. She was on her back, her eyes wide open and faded bruises covering her pale face. There were fresh pressure marks all over her neck.

She had been strangled.

Ste listened to the accompanying PC explain how the woman's sister had found her body, and that the husband was nowhere to be found.

And from the information they'd already received, it sounded like they already had a suspect in mind. He felt sick.

When he and Brendan went to talk to the victim's sister, he felt even worse.

She painted a very clear picture of Luke Martin - the apparently violent husband of poor Karen, whose life had been stolen aged just twenty-seven. It was all far too close to home for Ste.

"Steven."

His efforts to forget about Terry and that note had now come to nothing.

"Steven!" Brendan's voice disrupted his inner turmoil. He looked up and, not for the first time that week, told himself to get a grip.

Karen Martin's sister was sobbing, and _he_ was just standing there feeling sorry for himself.

"Right," he nodded, trying to look like he'd been fully attentive the whole time. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs-"

"Mrs Turner," the woman managed to choke out.

Ste took one look at her ashen face and thought of Amy, who'd lost her own sister a few years before. Then he thought of someone else. Someone who could have identified with Karen more than anyone, but who was no longer around to do so.

He wanted to be the one to get men like Terry - and this Luke Martin if the hints were accurate - locked up for good. And he wouldn't be able to do that if he spent all his time dwelling and going into random bouts of silence at inappropriate times.

So, alongside Brendan, he made all the right noises and said all the things an investigating officer was supposed to say. Forensics came and went, and the body was finally moved. The grieving sister's husband turned up to take her home, and eventually they left themselves and headed back to MIT.

It felt surreal to Ste; going through the motions, behaving as though he was detached from the situation when history meant he felt anything but.

"Ye know a couple of hours ago when I asked if ye were alright?" Brendan asked him mid-journey.

"Yeah?"

"Compared to the look on your face right now, _then_ ye were positively merry."

He couldn't bring himself to glance the Sergeant's way. "Just...don't ask. Please," he replied.

"I get it," Brendan said lightly. Ste was pretty confident that he didn't; but he wasn't going to correct him. "What we just saw was quite brutal, even without any blood. Could get to any man, that."

He finally turned his head, catching the man's eye for a brief moment before he parked the car. "Not you, though," he pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Brendan shrugged as he undid his seatbelt. "Well, ye can't mess with perfection."

Ste shook his head and went to step out of the car.

"Ye really think it doesn't bother me?" The Irishman's voice surprised him, as did the hand that had reached over to pull him back inside the car. He didn't make a fuss about it, though; just reached over to shut the door again.

"I don't know," he answered after a minute. "You seem to walk into crime scenes in the same manner I've seen you walk into a pub – without batting an eyelid."

"Only way to get the job done, Steven. Doesn't mean I don't care when I'm faced with the battered body of a girl even younger than I am. Today could have been especially difficult if I hadn't kept my mind on what I was there for."

"Why's that?"

"Because I knew someone else who died from strangulation."

Ste hadn't even considered that Brendan might also have been affected so deeply by what had been inside that house. Sometimes he just lost himself too much to notice anyone else.

"Lynsey?"

Brendan's eyes said more than words ever could.

"I'm sorry."

There was only silence then, and Ste began to grow concerned that he had created an awkwardness for the rest of the day. He really didn't want to have that hanging over them, so he made a quick decision to give away something about himself.

"I lost someone too."

The Sergeant's eyes flicked to his, and Ste swallowed the dry lump in his throat before continuing.

"The thing I can't talk about...let's just say it involved something similar to what that poor girl went through today. I...I wish I could switch off my emotions sometimes, but I'm not quite there yet."

When Brendan still hadn't spoken, Ste made a move to leave his car a second time. But once again he didn't get very far. This time, though, he was stopped by two softly uttered words.

"Come here."

He sat back in the passenger seat and resisted the urge to lean closer to the man. Within seconds Brendan had closed the gap between them and was cupping his face so delicately that he could barely believe it was the same arrogant sod who'd tried to re-interview him that Monday.

"Ye should know by now that ye aren't the only one to lose control. In my case it's pent up anger; in yours it's...hmm, shall we say your ability to concentrate?"

Ste smirked at him. "Is that supposed to be less emasculating than 'getting emotional'?"

"No, but ye can't deny it's true."

"Thanks, that doesn't make me sound like the most promising Constable."

"I wasn't angling for flattery here."

"Brendan," Ste replied, face beginning to flush with the warmth of the man's hands, which were still holding his face. "I say this as the man you're obviously about to kiss the face off of, rather than as your DC: just _shut_ up."

"If you insist."

Any minute now they were going to have to get back to work. They'd have a disgruntled Nancy to keep happy, and a snobby and clearly somewhat dodgy DI who was temporarily in charge. And that was on top of the latest murder inquiry.

Meanwhile Ste had an entire family at home who were relying on him to keep them safe, and he hadn't the first clue how long he could do that for.

But for a few selfish seconds he put it all out of his mind and kissed his superior officer as if his whole life depended on it.

And for some reason, despite his misgivings about what this 'thing' between them even was, right now it felt like life really _did _depend on Brendan Brady.


End file.
